Descent
by bobbymcfoogle
Summary: A Rose/Scorpius story with a twist. She wants to make him better, so why does she just keep on making him worse? Rating will change later: PLEASE review!
1. Chapter 1

**I recently became aware of the whole Rose/Scorpius thing and I must say, I am enthralled. So here's my penny's worth for the Romeo and Juliet of the Wizarding world. **

**I have NO idea how long this will end up! I'm hoping I'll have the stamina to take make it a fully-fledged saga, but it will take a LOT of encouragement (ie reviews a-plenty)!**

**Disclaimer: I am poor. JK Rowling is rich. I own nothing but the odd name that you see here and do not recognise, but even then I owe her for the inspiration. **

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**CHAPTER I**

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She sits on the opposite side of the table from him, the eerily bright light of the chandelier glinting in his oily black eyes. They're the only people in the room - a room far too big for just the two of them. Or maybe it's far too small? It depends on how you think of that entity, '_them_'. _The whole world wouldn't be big enough for us_, she thinks wryly.

Her parents are on their way. Any second now and they'll be apparating into the hall of the Malfoy mansion. Rose hasn't a clue where Scorpius' own parents are and she doesn't really want to think about it. His mother is haughtily beautiful in an intimidating and awe-inspiring way that makes her feel inadequate and dumpy – she _must_ have some Veela blood in her, otherwise that kind of glowing, transcending beauty just wouldn't be possible. His father petrifies her, the way he sneers at her, mutters words like, '_half blood_' and '_filth_' as she passes him in the corridors. Her mum told her that she shouldn't listen to foul words like that; that she's more gifted than most in the school inspite of her lack of 'wizarding blood' and besides, those barriers were broken down _years_ ago. It's practically archaic that there are still people in the world with such prejudices.

But Rose still cares. She cares because when Scorpius looks at her, she knows that inspite of whatever else he says or she thinks he might be thinking, he's judging her for her inferiority.

And it breaks her heart.

* * *

The first thing Rose's mum ever taught her was that she should never judge a book by its cover. She should give everyone she met at Hogwarts the chance to be her friend and they'd all give her the same one back in return. Her father had snorted at these words and although Hermione Weasley had whacked him over the head with a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet, later, when they were alone, he'd explained that there were some people you could tell were bad eggs right from the start. Rose didn't know _who_ she should listen to.

Kissing her parents goodbye on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, Rose had been very quiet. She sort of wanted to burst into tears, but wasn't sure why. She knew she was sad but it was an elusive sadness, applicable to too much of what she felt. It didn't help that this sadness was mingled with tingling excitement, either. Her brother Hugo was with her and she knew he'd look out for her, not to mention the numbers of other students she knew either already enrolled at Hogwarts or embarking on their first year, like her, but she still felt sad, as if something was coming to an end. There would be no more hazy, golden summers spent at her grandparents' house where she could use magic and pretend it was an accident while her uncle George spurred her on from behind the scenes. She knew that the start of secondary school would bring about the end of a dear, much-loved childhood; not just her own little world but the entire, plentiful clan that made her feel safe and loved and happy would all change as soon as she stepped on that train; James, Albie and Lily she would miss most of all. No more games or adventures with Lorcon and Lysander, her childhood friends - they were both starting Hogwarts the same year as her - she felt bereft; what if they didn't end up in the same house? What if everyone met newer and better friends who replaced her? What if she failed all her classes and was asked to leave?

The thoughts of such things filled her with fear and dread. But the thing she dreaded most was leaving her parents. Her dad; her dear, boisterous, funny, joking, silly dad. The thought of not seeing him everyday made her want to run back home, fling herself onto her bed and weep. And her mum; she could be nagging and tiresome and, worst of all, a little bit of a killjoy sometimes, but she was wise and loving and thoughtful. Rose just didn't know what she would do without them.

One thing that she did know, however, was that it would be a long time until Christmas.

As they boarded the train, Rose ran to a spare compartment, flung her hand baggage down and pressed her face up against the window. Her parents spotted her immediately and ran over to the space on the platform where they could see her best. Rose tried her best to smile in an excited matter but she felt like her face would crack at any moment. The train sped out of the station and before she could even realise it, her mum and dad were two stick figures in a billowing cloud of pearly white steam. She resisted the urge to cry, now realising it was too late to go home.

Little to Rose's knowledge, the secluded compartment she had sought had filled up with familiar faces. Hugo wasn't there, having insensitively run off to find his own, older friends but Lorcon and Lysander had settled themselves opposite whilst her cousin, Albie, was occupying the space beside her.

"When does the trolley come round? I'm starving!" Rose was jolted back to reality at the words of Lysander Scamander, moaning as usual about his stomach.

"How should we know? We've never been here before!" Lorcon berated his twin.

Albie was practically hitting the roof, grinning manically and bouncing up and down in his seat. "Aren't you excited, Rose?"

"Sort of. I thought you were nervous, Albie."

"I dunno … I was, but now we're actually _here_ … I can't wait! 'Sides, mum and dad have gone on about Hogwarts so much, it's got to be good!"

Rose found some comfort in her cousin's words. Her parents had, after all, often ascertained the fact that their school years had been amongst the best of their lives. It couldn't be _that_ scary, could it?

The conversation continued for the rest of the journey and the further they progressed, the more at ease Rose felt. By the time darkness had fallen, she was already quite excited. A prefect was patrolling the carriage and periodically glancing into each compartment to make sure no one was throwing up or hexing younger pupils. Throughout the journey they'd been joined by a couple of other nervous-looking first years; one was a boy, Rufus, who had rather a pompous manner but seemed relatively amicable. The other was a small, frightened looking girl with fair hair and freckles that rivaled Rose's, whose name was Clancy. She was seeking comfort in the form of a silky white rabbit in her lap, which she stroked so frequently and violently that Rose feared its fur would soon start to malt. The group was in conversation, albeit slightly awkward, when a rapping on the window interrupted them; the trolley lady was there for the second time, much to the pleasure of Lysander. Rose took the opportunity to squeeze out of the compartment and take a walk down the carriage in search of the lavatories.

As she had expected, there was a queue. The majority was girls a couple of years older than her, seemingly keen to use the well-lit mirrors that would enable them to look their best for the feast. The queue snaked a few metres down the carriage and Rose was forced to halt outside a compartment with a group of students of mixed ages inside it. One of the youngest was a boy with ash-blond hair, a royal nose and marble complexion. She made the observation that he would have looked like a statue had it not been for the fact that he was gesticulating wildly and she couldn't help but stare at him. He seemed to be describing something intensely and to the rapture of his audience, when he looked up and caught her eye.

It was only for a second, but Rose felt the impact of that look. She held his gaze for the shortest of moments, before hurriedly dropping her eyes, hoping her curtain of auburn hair would mask the blush that crept over her face. She didn't turn around again until she'd finished her business, by which time it seemed that the journey was coming to an end. She darted back to her original carriage and caught up with her friends. Everyone was chattering excitedly about the sorting that was to come and the feast they'd all been awaiting so dearly. Rose kept quiet, her nerves resurfacing until the monitoring prefect came and collected them to leave the train.

They were finally at Hogwarts, but all Rose could think about was the pale boy's intense gaze.

* * *

The chandelier is the only source of light in the room. It's unnaturally bright – Rose suspects it has been bewitched – but most of the dining room is still obscured in an inky-blue blackness.

He smiles again, but it's the ghost of a smile. During the time at the table, he hasn't taken his eyes off her once. She takes this moment to really get a look at him, as she often has done before now. He's slouching back in his chair, seemingly totally at ease, but she can tell he's just as tense as she is. His blonde hair is as luminous as ever, but his face is beautifully structured and chiseled, grazed slightly with the stubble of a seventeen year old. It's at this moment, as a thousand moments before, that she wishes he wasn't so handsome. A smirk etches itself on his face again, almost as if he can read her thoughts.

"Where are they?" she asks, breaking the steely silence. When the Malfoys had contacted her parents they'd said they would be there as soon as possible; she has no idea what could be holding them up.

"Who knows." He's a blank canvas, not wanting to say too much. But she knows him better than that: _You're my accomplice_, his dark eyes tell, _and I'm going to bring you right down with me._

This wasn't meant to happen. Rose was _good_, she was an honest, moral, brave girl. Her parents and her brother had been proud of her; her friends cherished her as a clever, funny, interesting but above all righteous person; someone who stood in Evil's way to make sure that Good won in the end. But she'd bowed down to Evil long before she could ever have realised. The thought made her shiver.

It was supposed to be such a success. How was Rose meant to know how terribly wrong things would have gone?

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**I've drafted Chapter II so should update soon. PLEEEEEAAAAASE tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: As a rather astute reviewer pointed out, Hugo is apparently supposed to be younger than Rose. Nevertheless, for the purposes of this story, he is older. In addition, for some reason I thought Albus' nickname was 'Albie' – for that I can only apologise and I will try and make amends. But really, a ridiculous nickname for a ridiculous name if you ask me! Also, James etc ARE at Hogwarts, I was trying (and failing!) to imply that Rose would just miss the relationship she had with them when they became schoolmates and not just relatives. Enjoy!**

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**CHAPTER II**

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As her parents had predicted, Rose Weasley loved everything about Hogwarts; the medieval architecture of the buildings, the camaraderie of belonging to a house (she'd known all along that Gryffindor was where her heart lay), the late night feasts, the quidditch lessons for which she'd been preparing for years, the earning of house-points that gave her the thrill her mum had warned her about, and so much more. She loved the snow topped roof tiles of the place she now called home and the daily descent of owls bearing gifts of loving messages from home with more sweets than she would have thought her parents capable of allowing her. She'd found her strengths in the academic magical world and that she had a passion for History of Magic and although her dad had warned her that it was the most boring subject under the sun, he must have had a different educational experience as Rose loved every aspect of it. The teacher who drew her so far into the world gone by was Professor Blewitt, a reasonably young witch with a mass of a flyaway, cork-screw-curled blue-ish hair and enormous gold-rimmed spectacles that seemed to make her head far outbalance her body. It wasn't Blewitt's eccentricity that Rose loved, however, but her dynamic nature and the way she talked so passionately about things that had happened in the past. Having grown up listening to the tales of her parents, aunts and uncles and the things that had happened in their own lives, she was fascinated by the past and thought of it as a place where she wished she could have once lived. Due to the extraordinary events of the twentieth-century wizarding world, History of Magic had become a much more exciting, contemporary subject and Rose relished it. She couldn't begin to describe the delight that had coarsed through her body when she had first picked up a textbook, '_The Fall of the Dark Lord and Other Important Defeats of the Twentieth Century_', by Mariana Klottson, and the section entitled _'Heroes, Heroines and Iconic Figures'_ had opened with fact files on almost every adult figure in her family, most notably her uncle, Harry.

Rose knew all about her family's past and had come to accept it as the norm. Even so, she swelled with pride – as did Albus – when Blewitt talked fervently of the courage of Harry Potter and his battle against the most evil wizard that ever lived. Her glee had grown stronger when the discussions turned to her own parents, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, the faithful friends of the man who brought an end to the terror that reigned for the majority of the latter part of the twentieth century; the lessons proved that they'd provided just as important a role as Rose's own uncle and the thought made her slightly giddy. Even Lysander and Lorcon got in on a bit of the action, what with their mother, Luna, having also contributed to the fight.

Most of the other first years were suitably impressed by Rose and Albus' claims to fame (although the rest of the school treated them with an equal amount of respect, the novelty had somewhat worn off after their siblings that preceded them, plus, there were many witches and wizards who had relatives involved in the defeat of Lord Voldemort) but there were still a couple of Slytherins who never seemed quite as enthusiastic about the Weasley-Potter celebrity status. One such pupil was the blonde, statuesque boy Rose had encountered on the Hogwarts Express. Rose had her first conversation with him on her first morning at the school. Tours of the school were being conducted ('_They never had that in our day!_' Rose's dad had commented in a letter, '_we got lost and had to deal with it._'), and she had ended up in a group with him. They had both been late and consequently told off, which sparked conversation between them.

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy. And you are?"

"Rose Weasley."

"Oh, you're a Weasley are you? One of many; I should have known." There was something about the tone of his voice that told her they were treading dangerous waters.

Rose plumped herself up a bit and tried to look more grown up than she felt. Her father had five surviving brothers and one sister, which meant an awful lot of cousins, most of whom were 'Weasleys'. Rose had always been proud of her large family, but this Malfoy boy made her feel almost ashamed. "Yes. You can probably tell us apart by the hair." Although not all flaming-redheads, the majority did have some red hue to their hair, ranging from strawberry blonde to that darker than Rose's own auburn.

He smiled at this and Rose felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't tell why, especially after he seemed so rude, but his piercing gaze was making her feel peculiar in a way she never had before. He continued to survey her for a few moments, distaste etched clearly across his perfect features.

"I don't want to sound rude," Rose ventured, "but do you have some problem with me and my family?"

"Apart from the fact that you ruined mine and are the reason for almost every misfortune that my father has experienced?" Rose did her best to cover a shocked gasp, stung by Malfoy's cruel words.

She had heard about her parents' history with this boy's father and it made her feel faintly uncomfortable. Her mum and dad had often talked of the notorious Draco Malfoy and although they tried not to betray any prejudices, she could tell that there were still some grudges; Rose could hardly forget her Dad's warning about not getting "_too friendly_" with this boy when they'd all been at the train station. Mr. Malfoy had a dark past and had been under the power of Lord Voldemort (since his fall, people were unafraid of uttering his name aloud), which had caused him to do some terrible things. However, at the last moment him and his family had turned to the side of Rose's own, and the opinion was commonly held that they were no longer at fault and that all hostilities could be put to rest, which was why she couldn't for the life of her understand why there seemed to be such an issue remaining. Even so, there was a perpetual chip on Ronald Weasley's shoulder as well that was put down to the constant insults and rude remarks made by Mr. Malfoy when the two were at school together and although Hermione was seemingly neutral on the matter, Rose could tell that her parents wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of how he was practically harassing her right now, not to mention how they might feel about the knot in her stomach that seemed to grow inexplicably tighter whenever he deigned speak to her.

She was, regrettably, speechless at his forthcoming nature, able only able to utter a half hearted, "Sorry..." which just made her feel awkward and ridiculous. How did this boy have the power to make her feel so ashamed when she hadn't done anything wrong?

He smiled coldly, if such a paradox was possible, and they ceased to talk for the rest of the tour. Whenever she saw him around after that, he didn't exactly ignore her but more tried to make some snide comment, calling her "Weasley," in a drawling manner and making some sort of deprecating comment. She just couldn't understand why he seemed so venomous towards her and was determined never to broach the matter with him again. She had never done _anything_ to him; she'd only had one proper conversation with him in her life! She disliked him with every fibre of her being and thought him cruel, without feeling and heartless.

Little did she know that it was thoughts like these that made him that way in the first place.

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_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Hogwarts is great. I have made some friends and Al, James and Hugo are being really nice to me. Tell Lily that I miss her a lot, and I can't wait for her to start. Everyone is very nice and friendly. I was going to try out for the Quidditch team but I don't think I will be good enough after what Hugo said to me over the summer. I think my best friend is Leah, but I still have to ask her. _

_I was wondering of you could tell me about a family called the Malfoys. _

_Love,_

_Rose_

_P. S. Thank you very much for the chocolate frogs. I got another Uncle Harry card again. _

* * *

Rose resolved that the letter was good enough to send to her parents. She didn't want to betray anything that Scorpius Malfoy had said to her, as she knew they would only worry that she was being bullied. She was especially proud of the mention of the chocolate frogs, as she thought it would probably serve well as a disguise for the Malfoy-question.

Apart from the afore-mentioned hiccouph, Rose really was settling in well at Hogwarts. She was doing well in her classes and had made some good friends across multiple houses. One such friend included Leah Chang, a girl in Ravenclaw, who was half-Chinese and extremely pretty, which gave Rose a feeling of importance - she was friends with a _popular_ girl. Amongst her new friends in Gryffindor were her old friends, Lorcon and Lysander, and her beloved cousin, Albus, whom she was rarely without. They were as thick as thieves and spent much of their time laughing and playing tricks on their other schoolmates; Rose was often the brains behind the outfit, whereas Albus' disregard for rules made him an excellent prankster. All in all, she was happier there than she had ever dreamed she would be, but for the presence of a significant blonde.

* * *

_Dear Rose,_

_We are delighted that you are enjoying school so much! We knew that you would. You are welcome for the gifts, they were our pleasure. Your father is just irritated that there are so few cards with his delightful face published these days ... _

_I don't think you need to check with this girl if she is your 'best friend' or not, just spend time with her and I am sure things will progress naturally. I never had a best girl friend and I was perfectly happy. Don't worry about Quidditch, and tell your brother to stop being so cruel. Try your hardest, but remember that very few first years are successful in getting on the team, so do not be disheartened if you fail. James was an exception like his father - their Quidditch skills just run in the family!_

_Draco Malfoy was at school with your father and I. We were never the best of friends but you should give his son a chance as we do not wish for parental grudges to be passed down, as they never end well. Mr. Malfoy and his family did not come out of the War very well; they were ruined and it has taken him many years to make their family wealthy again, although they are possibly more so today than they ever were before. You should give him a chance and see what happens - I know you are kind and want others to be happy, and this compassion should extend to those you don't yet know. _

_I hope that you will not pass on what I have told you to any other children, as it was difficult for the Malfoys. Gossiping will not help things. _

_Your father and I love you and miss you very much. We cannot wait until Christmas, when we will be able to see your smiling face again._

_Lots and lots of love from,_

_Mum_

* * *

Hermione Weasley rolled up the letter to her daughter, tied it with a piece of twine, attached it to the family owl's feet and sent it off into the night. She worried about Rose; it seemed that she was perfectly happy at Hogwarts, but her mention of Malfoy Jr. concerned her.

"Finished writing to Rosie?" Ron enquired, creeping up behind his wife and nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

"Yep," Hermione answered, more quietly than usual.

"What did you say you her about Malfoy?" Ron had read the letter and was slightly anxious.

"Just that she should give him a chance and see what happens."

"Oh, come off it - you didn't!"

"And what would be wrong if I did, Ronald?"

"He's obviously an utter git. You saw them at the station ... like father, like son. There's no way he's any different to his rotten, muggle-hating dad."

Hermione gave him an exasperated glare. "Whatever you might think, it would please me if you kept your thoughts to yourself and didn't try to influence our daughter."

With that, she flounced off upstairs, muttering something like, "Petitions to sign," and "Owls won't send themselves."

Ron sighed. He would have a lot of making up to do, he thought tiredly.

* * *

Rose had been thinking about the letter from her mum, concerning Malfoy, and she decided that she was right; everyone should be given a chance, no matter what their background.

It was a crisp October morning and she walked down to the Great Hall, ready for breakfast and the day ahead of her. Her timetable was fullest on a Monday and she had a lot of books balanced perilously on her back. She waltzed into the hall and, to her utmost embarrassment, tripped on her over-long robes and fell face-first onto the hard, stone floor.

A cruel, loud laugh greeted her as she raised her poor little head.

"Ha! The half-blood fell over!" It was Scorpius Malfoy, laughing and pointing, surrounded by some Slytherin chums, making the most of her misfortune.

Rose had heard those words before and thought they were not only unfair and prejudiced, but that they didn't even apply to her; both of her parents were magical! She only had muggle grandparents. Her eyes stung as she picked up her books and ran from the hall, tears threatening to overwhelm her.

She wouldn't listen to her mum. One thing was for sure, Scorpius Malfoy was one of the 'bad eggs' her dad had warned her about, and _nothing_ would make her be civil to him. _Nothing. _From now on, as far as she was concerned, she hated him more than any other person in the whole school.

Why was it, then, that the knot in the pit of her stomach just _wouldn't_ disappear? But Rose didn't care, for sometimes her hot-headed hatred was far stronger than any pity or compassion she felt. And that scared her; something bad resided in her soul that she wouldn't realise she was capable of until it was far too late.

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**Go on ... push that "Review" button. You know you want to. Again, sorry for incontinuity errors. I'm just _rubbish_ at spotting them!**


	3. Chapter 3

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**Chapter 3**

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Over the next few years, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy's 'relationship' went from bad to worse. He never turned down the opportunity to snub her and her parentage, well aware of the low status that those with muggle or part-muggle heritage once had in the wizarding world. Rose, however, gave as good as she got and the cases of insult and jibing between the two were so frequent that the pair had a reputation amongst the teachers for inadvertently causing trouble when in classes together.

Although Rose excelled academically, she was something of a loose canon and whilst she strived to be good and brave and to treat everyone fairly and kindly, she also recognised the concept of 'means to and end' and wasn't afraid to stand up and be difficult when she thought something, or more often than not some_one_, was wrong. Her father put this strong-willed, stubborn nature down to her mother, who was something of an activist herself, but Rose often took things that step too far and had been branded by those who were against her as "extremely difficult." Scorpius Malfoy often accused her of being "uptight", but although she could sometimes be self-righteous to the point of irritation, this was also because he was one of the laxest pupils in the school, therefore anyone with decent morals gained this branding from him.

A notorious womaniser, Malfoy had had his way with more girls than any other boy in his year by his sixth year. He was responsible for many broken-hearted, simpering females who found it necessary to fling themselves at him and he revelled in the opportunities presented by post-Quidditch parties and school balls, which were rife with Firewhisky and other social lubricants. Rose, who had noted these conquests of his, just found it more fuel to hate him and his masochistic nature even more. Even so, she was also guilty of occasionally staring at his glorious profile during the long, monotonous hours bent over books in the library and the knot that had first tied itself all those years ago in the pit of her stomach simply refused to go away. Again, this just made her dislike for him stronger.

It was something of a surprise, Rose found, when both she and the boy she loathed most were elected to be Prefects of their respective houses in their penultimate year at Hogwarts.

* * *

Rose stood in front of the gilt mirror, surveying her appearance. It was the second evening back at Hogwarts after the summer holidays and she was due in Professor McGonagall's office for a Prefects' welcome supper any minute; she suspected she was already running late. She stared at the person in the reflection; her long, auburn hair curled to just over her breasts (which she resolved were just that bit too small for a sixteen-year-old) and she had pinned the top layers up loosely with a diamond-studded clip. Her eyes were indigo-blue and she had dusted their lids with shimmering powder. Her lightly freckled face was home to a lopsided grin and although she didn't consider herself stunningly beautiful, she thought she had come a long way since her first year when she was an awkward, skinny girl with a mass of crazy red hair that seemed to explode on one side of her head. _Certain_ people had never had a problem with pointing that out. If she had a galleon for everytime Malfoy had called her "ginger" or worse - "firecrotch" and "fanta pants" were some especially lewd comments that sprung to mind - Rose would have been the richest witch in the world.

She didn't like to admit it, but sometimes Scorpius Malfoy's words hurt more than she would ever have liked to admit. She pushed any thoughts of him out of her mind and reached for the powder on the shelf next to the mirror.

There was a sharp rapping on the door of the room, and a pretty, dark-haired girl with almond shaped eyes stuck her head around the door.

"Are you ready yet, Rose?"

"Just coming, Leah." She turned around and smoothed down her red, knee-length dress.

"Wow, you look great!" Rose smiled. She felt great for once, too.

"Shall we go?"

The two girls set off for McGonagall's office, arm-in-arm, chattering away excitedly.

* * *

Arriving in McGonagall's office, Rose was in awe of how beautiful it looked. The walls had been decorated (with the aid of magic, of course) and extravagant foliage arrangements were hanging from the rafters, fairies and other winged, ethereal creatures flitting between them. Rose and her friend were led into the centre of the room by a silent, peculiarly dressed house elf, to where the other new Prefects were already standing.

"Now that we're all here," began McGonagall in her pleasant, Scottish lilt, "I'd like you to take your places."

Rose knew that comment was directed partially at her and Leah, but it didn't help matters when a familiar hand touched her shoulder and Scorpius Malfoy leaned over and whispered, "Late as usual, _Weasley_."

It was completely unwarranted, as Rose was rarely late. She could be a little scatty sometimes, but she really thought her organisational skills were perfectly fine. Unable to think of a comeback, she scowled at him darkly. He just smirked and made his way to his seat, which was, regrettably, next to hers. This was going to be a _long_ evening.

Before the banquet came a lengthy lecture from Professor McGonagall about the virtues of delegation and leadership, and the pitfalls of the abuse of power. Rose noted, somewhat smugly, that when she talked to the group of Prefects about how power can corrupt, her line of vision seemed to be directed at Scorpius Malfoy. The other Prefect for Gryffindor was called Matthias Tatiana and was an Italian looking boy who was the best friend of Lysander Lovegood. Rose liked him well enough and thought that they would make a good team this year, as he was responsible, good-natured and funny, and _nothing_ like Scorpius.

The meal itself was extravagant and decadent. The starters rivalled that of the feast the night before, and for the main course there was a roast pheasant with all the trimmings, intricate seafood dishes, pumpkin pies, jellied veal, spicy garlicky potatoes, buttered carrots, mint peas and three different types of rice. The pudding presented itself in the form of a hovering chocolate fountain, which set itself down amongst silver dishes piled high with pineapple chunks, marshmallows the size of a fist, grapes, banana pieces and strawberries that had been bewitched to release a puff of sugary air when you bit into them. All in all, it was delicious and everyone seemed quite pleased that they had been assigned their posts just for this meal. Wine flowed all evening and the atmosphere was merry. Rose noted that it was nice for once that some of her year group were able to spend an evening together when they all came from different houses.

It was only Scorpius Malfoy's presence that marred the evening for her. She was doing everything in her power not to brush hands with him or worse, _legs_, throughout the meal, because every time he got too close it was as if there were electric sparks flying between them. She could practically feel heat radiating from his body and it made her queasy to think _which _of them might be producing that energy. What made her feel even worse was the fact that he was able to get to her like this in the first place.

* * *

"So then the Centaur said to the unicorn, I wouldn't stick that two-headed knackstog there if you paid me!"

The evening had been going on long enough and Rose was getting pretty tired now, but everyone guffawed with laughter at the joke made by Edward Lincoln, the pompous Prefect of Hufflepuff. She didn't really get it, but laughed along politely anyway. She caught Scorpius' eye, whose stony-face echoed what she was feeling. He looked at her sharply, almost inquisitively; something about his expression burned into hers and she had to look away, almost embarrassed.

"Well, thank you all for a delightful evening, but I think we had best be turning in. After all, there are lessons tomorrow!" McGonagall, ever the voice of reason, had at last sent them to bed. On the way out, Scorpius' body brushed against hers and she shivered slightly.

Walking home with Leah, Rose got to thinking, but was interrupted by her friend, who asked curiously, "What was going on between you and Malfoy tonight?"

"What?" said Rose.

"Oh, come on, I saw you making eyes at each other all evening."

"No we _weren't_!"

"You _were_. Is that what '_enemies_' do these days? 'Cause if it is, I should start investigating them …"

Rose snorted. "Like you'd need to. You've got every boy in the year swooning over you!"

"Oh, so you're admitting Malfoy was '_swooning_' over you, then?"

"Shut up!"

Leah laughed and gave her friend a playful punch on the shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Rose. _Sleep well_ … I'm sure you will, dreaming of your blonde-haired _angel …_" she crooned, swanning off to the Ravenclaw tower.

Rose, standing stoically alone in the corridor, was glad that no one was around to see her blushing.

* * *

In Rose's opinion, becoming a Prefect hadn't made _any_ difference to Malfoy's character. He was still as rude as ever, insulting her and making her feel like an idiot. Potions lessons were the _worst_.

"Hey, Weasley, why don't you do us all a favour and jump in your cauldron? I bet the taste of you would work as a better deterrent for werewolves –"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"No, really, I've heard especially _ugly_ girls can be useful for that kind of thing, and seeing as how you're the _ugliest_ of them all –"

"Oh, give it a break, Malfoy," Leah chimed in, defending her friend. He made a faux-surrendering gesture and went back to his work, smirking to his friend, Lucio Blaise. The two were rarely seen without each other.

Walking from the dungeons to the Great Hall, Rose had kept up a continuous complaint about Scorpius Malfoy.

"He's just always so foul to me! I can't understand why!"

"Oh, he's like that with practically every girl who's not in Slytherin ... or who he doesn't want to shag. Besides, I think his friend Blaise is actually pretty cute."

Rose spluttered. "Leah, _please _don't tell me you like Lucio Blaise!"

"Who likes Blaise?" Albus had come strolling up behind the two girls without them realising.

"_No_ one," Leah said, in a mind-your-own-business sort of way. "Malfoy's just being a prick to Rose again."

"Ah, cuz ... just give me the word and enlist our dear brothers' help to sort him out."

"Oh, because you couldn't all by yourself?"

Albus feigned hurt. "Moi? Too puny? You must be joking ...."

The two girls laughed. Rose loved Albus dearly, but he _was_ a little on the small side for his age ... Uncle Harry had promised him he'd have a growth spurt in his sixth year, but they were all still waiting for it. Had it not been for his good sense of humour and sly wit, he could easily have been a victim at Hogwarts. Her elder cousin, James, however, was much more beefy and travelling in Europe instead of doing anything "productive" (as the family put it) with his time. Hugo, however, was fiercely protective of his sister and also incredibly ambitious. _Nothing_ could stop him from achieving something if he put his mind to it. Rose felt like she should remind Malfoy of this the next time he decided to get smart with her.

The three friends walked into the Great Hall. "Bye Rose, Albus," Leah called as she swanned off to the Ravenclaw table. Rose and Albus meandered over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, next to Albus' sister, Lily.

In Rose's opinion, Lily was _far_ too pretty for her own good. She was petite – yet curvy – with a shock of red hair, glittering green eyes, creamy pale skin and an exceptionally beautiful face. She turned boys' heads wherever she went and had been asked out by, what Rose predicted was, the majority of the boys in every House.

"Hey, Lil'" Albus said through a mouthful of the chicken sandwich that he had already grabbed and stuffed in his mouth before sitting down.

Lily waved lazily at the two of them, engrossed in a book.

"Anyway, seriously, Rose, if he does get _really_ bad, just come and tell me."

"Who're you talking about?"

"Scorpius Malfoy."

"Mmmmmm ...."

"Merlin, Lily – not you too!" Rose cried.

"Please, I do not want to hear this kind of thing from my little sister ..." Albus was frantically trying to stick his fingers in his ears whilst still clutching onto the remainders of his sandwich.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on ... he _is_ good-looking. It's an animal attraction thing –" Albus gagged, "- I'm not saying he's a _nice_ person or anything ..." The three joked around, teasing each other and causing much embarrassment.

"Well, ladies, I'm going to have to love you and leave you," Albus said, jumping up.

"Is this because of my _inappropriate_ comments?" Lily asked.

"Ha, ha. No. I've got Quidditch practise. See you later!" he added, dashing off.

"I swear, that boy doesn't even pause to _breathe,_ let alone _eat_."

"I know. He should've learnt from the last time, when he got hiccoughs on his broomstick."

Rose laughed. "Still didn't stop him catching the snitch, mind ..."

* * *

"Oh, hello _Weasley,"_

Rose had been by the lake, studying. It was still early September and she wanted to make use of the good weather while she still could, but still had a lot of work to do. Combining the two had seemed like the best idea, until she bumped into Scorpius Malfoy on the way back to the Gryffindor common room. He had been leaning against the wall of the arch leading to one of the school's courtyards when he stood up straight and ambled over to her, apparently looking for conversation.

"Hello Malfoy. Not got any other girls to harass today?"

He smirked. "You know you're my favourite."

She knew she shouldn't have done, but her insides squirmed at this. Not in a bad way, either. She went faintly pink and hoped he wouldn't pick up on this rather embarrassing fact.

"Where've you been, anyway?" He eyed her suspiciously.

"By the lake, doing some work."

"I should've guessed, swotting up as _usual._ You do realise we've not even been back a fortnight?"

"There's nothing wrong with working hard. Not all of us are okay with cheating to get by."

"Pssh."

Rose tried to walk on ahead of him, but Scorpius' stride matched hers easily and he kept up. "Can you please leave me alone?"

"Why? Can't we talk civilly after all these years? We _are_ both Prefects now, and we wouldn't want a stupid tiff to get in the way of the school's good standards, would we?"

"Shut up, Malfoy. You must think I'm so stupid to believe all your crap."

"No, I don't."

Rose was taken aback. This was possibly the first _nice_ thing Scorpius had said to her in her entire school career.

"Oh, so you're finally acknowledging I'm clever, are you?"

"Perhaps." He smirked again. Rose wished she could come up with some witty retort, but words failed her.

"Where're you going, anyway?"

"I had Quidditch practise at lunch, and there's not much else to do today."

"Oh, so you're stalking me instead then, are you?"

"Shut up …"

If Rose hadn't known better, she'd have thought they were almost _joking _together. They walked without talking for twenty seconds or so until Rose was almost squirming with the awkwardness of the silence, especially after the rare case of amicable behaviour between the two of them.

"So … what did you do this summer?

"Taking an interest are we, Weasley?" Rose gave him an exasperated glare. "Well …" he drew out the word, "I spent the first couple of weeks at home. Zabini was staying, it was all right, not _too _dull."

"What about your parents?"

"My father is away on business a lot. Mother often goes with him."

"Hmm."

"How about you?"

"I stayed at my grandparents' for a while. The others were there, too – my brother just finished a work experience placement at the Ministry. We spent most of the time mucking around with James, Lily and Al." Rose smiled at the memory. It had been really quite enjoyable.

"Oh yes. How's the famous Hugo getting on? Still the self-righteous prick he always was?" He always did that. Always said something cutting and hurtful, even when she thought he was being nice for once. "Takes after your dad, doesn't he?" he went on, "Adding to the Great Weasleys' new money-"

"Shut up Malfoy."

"Ooh-er –"

"I mean it. Just shut up and don't talk about my family that way." She was spitting mad now, every word laced with anger and venom. He'd pushed this button one too many times. "You think you're so _big_ and _clever_, just because you live in that stupid massive mansion all by yourself – well guess what? No one's jealous of you, rolling around like a lonesome pea in a can, all alone because your parents hate you – no one loves you and I don't see why anyone would!" She was close to tears now and couldn't hold back. "No wonder they're always away, if I had to live with you I'd go 'on business'" - she made melodramatic air quotation signs with her fingers - "too." She was about to lay into him with another acid insult, when he grabbed her forcefully by the shoulders and slammed her into the corridor wall.

His voice was barely a whisper, dripping with fury and danger; "I would be _very _careful, _Weasley_, about saying another word." Their faces weren't even an inch apart and Rose was petrified. There was no sound of anyone, not even a portrait, to witness what was going on. He could do anything – beat her up, curse her, gouge out her eyes - and no one would be able to stop him. Maybe she was being slightly melodramatic, but she wouldn't have put it past him to do something that shocking.

"Malfoy …" she whispered.

His eyes glinted and he smirked wickedly. He let go of her violently and stood back, watching. She staggered slightly.

"You are the most …"

He laughed again, but it was cruel and mocking.

"See you around, Weasley."

Rose was left standing alone in the corridor, as the blond-haired boy disappeared into the darkness of the passage.

* * *

She's always known he can be violent. Right now, she knows that more than ever. _The things she's seen him do … _and yet inspite of it, she can't curb her addiction. She can't let go of the boy who she's seen do the most unspeakable things, because sometimes, just _sometimes_, she witnesses him do something so wonderful, so out of character from what everyone else thinks of him, that it makes her remember that she'd rather die than let him go.

* * *

**Please review!**


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